Jagged Crown
by the-lovecat
Summary: Ulfric Stormcloak has succeeded in taking Skyrim from the Empire, and now holds Elisif the Fair prisoner in her own palace. With the Thalmor now wanting Elisif's life, can the two put aside their differences and fight back? Elisif/Ulfric
1. Victory

**Hey guys! Since constantly playing Skyrim, I felt absolute adoration for Ulfric Stormcloak and decided to do the impossible: Write an Ulfric/Elisif story. So hopefully it goes well! And I wanted to give big thanks to my Beta Croatin for having to go through this and fixing my terrible grammar. Thanks!**

**And I feel like I should confirm before I even start that "Storm-Blade" is not Dragonborn in this story. I always figured Dragonborn would have more to worry about than the Stormcloaks and Imperials like, I dunno, fighting dragons?**

**Summary: Ulfric and the Stormcloaks succedes in taking Skyrim, and takes Elisif as prisoner.**

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><p><em><span>Chapter 1: Victory<span>_

Ulfric's beloved blade rested in his clutched hand, stained with the blood of his bitter long-time adversary, Tullius.

The man he considered the unseen tyrant of the Empire was nothing more than dead weight, lying motionless at Ulfric's feet. Tullius' severed head was resting on the other side of the room. The aroma of blood filled the air, and no doubt the walls were covered.

Galmar Stone-Fist boasted victory while their prospect, Mortan, stood silent with Ulfric. Mortan eyed his mentor, but Ulfric dared not to make eye contact. He knew the shame Mortan was feeling, for he felt it, too.

To Ulfric, this wasn't a victory. Too many people died. Children's innocent lives had ended on the streets, and honorable soldiers such as Rekke died for doing exactly what Ulfric had been preaching through out the war; they stood up for what they believed in. Ulfric knew they weren't right, but how much different were they from him? Ulfric Stormcloak quietly sheathed his sword.

Galmar jumped at the metallic sound. "Ulfric?" He was confused. Sheathing your sword was a sign of defeat. There was no reason Ulfric should put it away after killing Tullius before raising his sword to his men in victory. He looked at his comrade, hoping for a visual answer. Mortan, the level-headed, quiet, and discerning Nord, looked back, saying nothing. Galmar watched in marvel as his dear friend Ulfric began to march outside with his boots splashing in the puddles blood.

Outside, thousands of Rebel soldiers cheered at the sight of their leader, joyous that it was he who walked out the doors alive. Ulfric placed himself in front of the crowed. While his face stood calm, his nerves shook with excitement. The pain in his heart was being lifted by the sound of every live Stormcloak that shouted. They cheered for freedom. They cheered for him.

Galmar stood by his friend and nudged him on the shoulder. "I think they're expecting a speech, eh?"

Ulfric smiled, and glanced over to Mortan, who smirked awkwardly and nodded. Their leader took a step forward to face his soldiers. The rebels weren't getting any quieter, the very fashion of a true Nord.

"Stormcloaks!" He bellowed with his rough hoarse voice, "I am Ulfric Stormcloak. By me is the one we call Mortan Stormblade. Others call us leaders... heroes... and the very arms of righteous! But they are wrong. We're nothing without the true arms of every one of you, who fought to protect our land and scour it from the men who wished to take away everything that made us who we are. They wanted our freedom, you denied them! They wanted our religion, you challenged their rights to do so. When the Thalmor broke the Empire to pieces and had them take away our gods, you strived to make them regret and understand. You let them know that this is our land, and we're her children!

You only have to thank yourselves. You didn't fight for me. You fought for yourselves! You fought for your culture, and your lives. You fought because you had to! And because of your dedication, we are free to decide our own fates!"

Every soldier became frenzied. He tried hard to match his voice above theirs. Before he could continue, a single shout from an unknown soldier caught his attention.

"What about Elisif?"

Ulfric's heart stopped. His eyes darted to the center of the crowd, searching. There, her eyes, her hateful eyes, caught him.

Elisif. How could he forget? Looking straight at her, he felt every jab of guilt in the world. He dreaded this moment, walking toward her, ignoring the suggestions of lynching and beheading from the crowd itself. She stared at him, never blinking, her face covered in dirt and blood of her people. The woman that people have called "Elisif the Fair" now stood before him, tired and broken. Her eyes brimmed with a hatred more powerful than she had ever felt before with this man. Ulfric kept a stern face. He never made a plan what to do with her. He loathed the moment he had to face her.

"Yes," He repeated, "What do we do with her. Do we kill her? Punish her for her late husband's crimes? Chastise her for her undying love to the Empire?"

Elisif's face was stern, and she tried hard not to cry out in tears. Even as the people around her clearly enjoyed the idea of her torture and demise.

"Or," Ulfric continued "would we stoop to her Empire's level?"

The soldiers silenced. Elisif looked up at Ulfric, in much confusion as everyone else. His smug expression made her body burn with disgust.

"Elisif, Jarl of Solitude. You can end this war. You can understand our cause, and submit to me and these soldiers."

The Jarl, beaten and bruised, answered quickly by spitting on his boots.

"I'll never surrender to you or your murderous barbarians!"

Ulfric Stormcloak raised his eyes from the spit on the ground. "What a waste." He came closer to her, closer than she would have liked, and if it weren't for the restraints she would have moved. He got to her ear, and talked soft so only she could hear him.

"Think about what you're doing, Elisif." He spoke calm. "People are dying over this. Tullius is gone. You have no one to depend on. You. Can't. Win."

The Jarl said nothing. Her heart sank to the floor at the thought of her people, the innocent people who got caught in the silly conflict. Tullius was suppose to be her last hope. Without him, the people would surely suffer. She breathed heavy, trying her hardest to keep everything in. She bit her tongue hard, but she couldn't stop the steady flow of tears. Elisif looked into the evil man's eyes. The man she hated more than anything in world. Her body shook with rage.

"F-fine." Elisif choked, "Fine, I surrender. You win. Just let my people be."

Ulfric smiled, and the Stormcloaks roared. He motioned to Mortan, who walked hastily to his Jarl. He whispered in his ear, much like he did with Elisif. "Prison her in her room. Keep her there until I decide what to do with her. Come down afterward for the feast."

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><p>The Blue Palace, once occupied with well-mannered nobles, was now filled with boasting Stormcloaks who seemed to have never learned table manners. They belched out songs, pounded their tables, and shouted with mouth's full, spitting food all over. While they sang the song of victory, Ulfric took his place, sitting at the end of the long-table. The soldiers were not only finding it miraculous that they had just taken over a whole capital city, but now their own "stone-faced" Ulfric was smiling and drinking himself.<p>

"What a fine time, eh Ulfric?" Galmar nudged his superior with his mouth half full of chicken.

"Indeed," Ulfric agreed, and held his cup high in a toasting-manner, then downed it all at once. He wiped off his mouth and continued. "It better be a fine time to drink tonight, at least. Tomorrow we might not have this luxury once the Elves find out about this."

Galmar Stone-Fist swallowed his food. "Maybe. Why worry about it now?" He watched as Ulfric nodded, but could tell he pondered at the thought. "Still, I wonder about you."

Ulfric looked up. "Ey?"

"I wouldn't have let the lassie go so easy."

Stormcloak sighed. "And what would you have me do? Kill her like I killed Rikke and Tullius? The whole Empire would be at us more than they already are. Even the people seem to love her. They would surely revolt over her death."

Galmar nodded slowly. "Aye...I get it. She's the city's Icon. Maybe even the whole country. But that doesn't explain why you're holding her up as "Prisoner" in her own room. I'd expect you throwing her in the dungeon, at least.

Ulfric sat silent, no longer smiling. With as much pride as he had, he couldn't admit that he had no plan for her. He couldn't kill her, not like the Stormcloaks think he could. His ruthlessness had a limit. Although he would never say so to anyone, he could never kill a woman after taking her husband and city.

Not without a reason to do so, at least.

"Let me go!"

Mortan Storm-Blade struggled while he kept the woman in binds and dragging her across the hallway. He was known to be anything but nice. He was quiet and humble towards his superiors, but to enemies, he was ruthless. Elisif was his number one enemy now, especially after Tullius' demise. So it was no wonder that he was rough with the former Jarl as he grasped her bind hands tight. When he opened the room door, Mortan threw her in like a rag doll, watching as she grunted when falling to the ground.

"Stay in," He ordered.

Elisif coughed. The wind was knocked out of her. Even then, she had enough to cough up another insult in his face. "I suppose barbarians like you never heard of Chivalry? Manners, perhaps."

"Get off it. You're lucky my king placed you here and not in the pit." Mortan wouldn't dare look at her, instead helping a soldier fiddle with the door to lock it from the outside. "Now do whatever you princess' do while others fight your battles." He stopped to look at her, and added quietly, "As usual."

Elisif was speechless. She stayed silent as Mortan left, giving her no time to snap back. Instead, she was by herself, listening to him bar in the room so she couldn't get out. She looked around. Her room had everything a noble would want. Even so, Elisif the Fair, once Jarl of Solitude and former High Queen, was a prisoner.


	2. Ambush

**Chapter two! It's a little longer, and I like it. A HUGE thank you to Croatin for helping me so much with this!**

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><p><em>Chapter 2: Ambush<em>

"The Stormcloaks did _what?_"

The Thalmor Captain, Elrohir, stood up from his seat and slammed his palms hard on his wooden desk. The poor Elven courier nearly jumped out of his skin, shaking at the sight of his angered superior.

"H-he defeated the Empire, sir," The courier repeated, "The Stormcloaks raided Solitude and...and drove them out. Tullius is dead, sir..."

Elrohir dropped back down into his chair, saying nothing. He was stunned. In his head, he was pondering the solutions to a problem he never thought possible. The Stormcloaks were never meant to defeat the Empire. They were merely supposed to weaken it.

"...Are you sure the Empire is gone?" He asked the courier after a few moments.

"Th-there's still a few I-Imperials camps, but the Empire is gone. There's n-no Imperial authority in Skyrim," He explained, then quickly added, "That I know of...sir..."

The Captain sighed deeply, pinching his nose in thought. "...Get Elenwen in here. Now."

The courier didn't dare defy Elrohir and left within seconds, fearing anymore of his rage. The Captain waited minutes until a knock came to his door. The Thalmor Ambassador, Elenwen, walked in. She saw him fiddle with papers, trying to occupy himself from the stress.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Shut the door." He ordered, "Take a seat."

She did as he suggested. Even so, Elrohir was compelled to stand up and pace around.

"We have a ...problem," He finally admitted, "The Stormcloaks invaded and successfully taken over the Capital, Solitude. It seems the Empire has been driven out."

Elenwen raised both her eyebrows, and stared at him hard. "I already know this, Captain. As well as half the country."

The Thalmor Elrohir stopped in his tracks. "Really? How did everyone find out before I did?"

The Ambassador woman shook her head in annoyance and rolled her eyes. "Well, it's my _job_ to know, for one. And not everyone is locked up in a room with only a courier to give him the news. " The Captain scoffed at her, and Elenwen continued. "But in all seriousness, yes, this is a problem. A very big problem. Our orders were to use Ulfric and the Stormcloaks to weaken the Empire when we captured him. Now it seems we have the Stormcloaks to deal with, as well. And you know how bloody unpredictable _they_ can be."

"Yes, you're right," Elrohir agreed, and continued pacing. "I never imagined the Stormcloaks as a threat...I _still_ don't. But if they were able to drive out the Empire like that..."

"We were placed in Skyrim to make sure this wouldn't happen," The Ambassador spoke up. "We let Ulfric have his little toy army for our benefit. But their numbers are growing, and they're getting stronger."

"My good girl, you wouldn't be concidering _war_, would you?"

Elenwen gave him an odd look. "Of course not you fool. We wouldn't waste that much resource over this silly little situation. But we'll need to use some..." She groaned in annoyance. "I suppose... I could think of some things to weaken the Stormcloaks until they're out of the picture. Then we can turn to the Empire."

The Captain stopped in his tracks, and smiled at his fellow Elf. "It seems you underestimated Ulfric a great deal, my dear."

Elenwen scoffed in offense. "So says you. I did my job." She got up from her seat, ready to depart. "Lets see if you can finally do yours."

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><p>The night was peaceful in Whiterun, after the off-duty Stormcloaks finally had enough to drink and retreated to the barracks. When the streets were finally bare and everyone was asleep, two figures were waiting behind the Battle-Born house, fully clothed in un-fashioned robes. The Battle-Born doors opened quietly, and the proud Idolaf stood. He was silent and careful when closing the doors, then crept over to the two mysterious figures in waiting.<p>

"Be quick about this, Elves," he ordered, "I don't need the Gray-Mane's holding this over our heads."

"No worries, dear friend," The cunning fox-like Bosmer mocked and gave a sly grin. "No one would surely accuse you of being a _Thalmor informant_."

"Keep your voice down! Even my own _family _would disown me for this!" He took glanced around to make sure no one was around. "Now I wont ask you again. What do you want?"

This time the Altmer, standing tall and confident while holding hiss\ hands behind his back, spoke more professionally than his shorter shrewd friend. "Nothing we can say publicly, Mr. Battle-Born" He held out a folded note and a hefty large bag to Idolaf. "But I think _this _would explain everything we would like from you."

Idolaf took the note and bag cautiously, noting how strange the situation seemed. He eyed them, then flipped the note open and began to look through it. Once he read, his eyebrows shot up in surprise. He would have nearly laughed, but when he looked at the disguised Thalmors, their serious expressions assured there was no joking around the situation. Idolaf proceeded to open the bag. When he saw the mass amount of gold inside, he responded by nearly dropping it.

The Altmer smiled wide. "I think that's an affirmative answer, yes?"

"With this, I could just _buy _the damn Gray-Manes," Idolaf joked. "And if I just turn you in?"

"Well, "The Bosmer cut in menacingly, "You'd go back to your terrible life and let the Gray-Manes spit on your heels some more. No one would care if they knew the Thalmor are involved. We're expected to be. But I'm sure others would have a problem with you supporting Ulfric."

The Altmer added, "And I'm afraid, if you chose to do decline our deal, we would be forced to reveal what happened to Tharold Gray-Mane."

When both those names came up, Idolaf jumped. Tharold, the Gray-Mane's boy, was abducted and never heard from again. It was no secret that people suspected the Battle-Borns. With no proof to go on, the Battle-Borns were never questioned. Idolaf gulped, and looked at the letter again. Without looking at the Thalmor, he sighed.

"I'll do it."

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><p>'Vignar the Revered', or as late known as 'Jarl of Whiterun', sat on his throne, slouching with his fist holding up his chin in boredom. He always pictured being Jarl more exciting. At least, Balgruuf always made it seem that way. The former Jarl seemed to have gotten all the greater tasks during the Dragon Invasion and the arrival of the Dragonborn. All Vignar seemed to get were citizens complaining about stolen sweet-rolls and petty bandits raiding camps. Vignar sighed as he pretended to listen to a stand merchant complaining about a drunken bard knocking over her goods the previous evening.<p>

"...Jarl?"

Vignar looked at his niece, who became his housecarl.

"Um...the woman?" She pointed to the complaining merchant, signaling she was done with her rant.

"Oh! Yes, yes," He waved her off, "I'll take care of it."

The merchant, obviously sensing he wasn't listening, rolled her eyes and left. Vignar got up from his seat, stretching his arms out and yawning.

"Well, I guess I can about call it a day, eh?"

"But Uncle," Olfina interjected, "We still have more people to see!"

"Listen, Olfina. If I have to hear about anymore soldiers throwing up on lawns or people complaining about their stench, I'm going to have a visit with Sheogorath in the near future." He snapped, and began to walk up the steps. "Now, if you don't mind, this old man needs rest. Head home and do the same. Oh! And Olfina?"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"Stay away from Jon Battle-Born. I mean it. I don't need to hear about any more of your 'get togethers'. Head straight home. Now."

He could hear his niece pout as he continued to walk up the steps. He nearly laughed, but was serious. The only time there should be a Gray-Mane and Battle-Born together is when there's a blade in between them.

Yawning, the new Jarl waved to the soldier guarding his room door, and walked inside. He shut the door behind him, and felt any stress he had that day was being halted until he would walk back out the next morning. Vignar changed into his night-clothes, peered through his window at both moons, and slipped underneath his covers.

What Vignar didn't know while he slept like a king, was that the guard he waved to and trusted his life with wasn't a guard at all. The false guard sat there for an hour, waiting to hear the noise of the Jarl snoring. Once he did, the man peered in both directions and silently opened the door, locking it from the inside.

Once inside, this 'guard' lifted his helm, exposing his face to only the darkness and moonlight. Through the moonlight, you could easily make out his features. He had the features of Idolaf Battle-Born.

The Battle-Born son slowly knelt down, and placed his helm on the floor quietly so not to waken the old man. He unbuckled the strap to his sword, and also was careful in placing it on the ground.

Idolaf was a Nord, and Nords weren't known for their stealth. So when he took out his poisoned-laced dagger, he wanted nothing more than to let out a battle cry and tear Vignar's face open like a wolf. But he had to be smart about this, just to protect his family.

So, the Battle-Born turned to stealth and slowly made his way towards the bed. When he finally caught eye of the the old man, who had his mouth wide open snoring like a sleeping bear, Idolaf raised his hand over the man's mouth and held his poisoned dagger up. Idolaf slammed down his hand hard on Vignar's mouth, waking him violently.

Vignar's eyes shot open, unable to scream for the guard's help for his attacker's hand was firm and strong over his mouth. All he could do was struggle under the man's weight. Idolaf put his mouth to Vignar's ear, and whispered.

"This is for Skyrim," He placed the blade on the old man's neck. "This is for the Battle-Borns."

It took one slit across the Vignar's throat to seal his fate. Idolaf kept his hand tight on the dying man's mouth, watching his foe's neck bleed out from the wound in his neck. Within a couple of minutes, 'Vignar the Revered', Jarl of Whiterun, and the proud Gray-Mane, was dead.

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><p>Word of the Gray-Mane Vignar's death traveled all across Skyrim. Everyone who knew the man mourned at the news, including the Companions, who dubbed him the name "The Revered" for great reason. Even the Empire-supporters cried out that this once treasured hero was assassinated in a terrible and cowardly manner. Everyone knew exactly who to blame.<p>

The day Vignar's body was found, all the Battle-Borns were reported missing. Gray-Manes were outraged, vowing that every Battle-Born head would be cast on a wooden stake for vengeance. The same day, the famous Battle-Born farm was cast up into flames, and Gwendolyn, keeper of the farm, was forced to flee.

Ulfric heard the news soon after the murder happened. He was quick to realize that Idolaf wouldn't have been put up to this on his own. He didn't have the guts.

"Then who would put him up to it?" Questioned Galmar.

"Someone with enough profit and reason to persuade him," Ulfric answered, "_Thalmor scums, _if course."

"Aye, they like to play dirty."

Ulfric Stormcloak nodded in agreement, thinking. The Thalmor didn't have to kill Vignar Gray-Mane. They would never gain anything from his death. It was a cryptic message.. The Elves were declaring war.

"They've always been sneaky," Galmar responded. "How do we get them back? I want them to taste my axe for this!"

Ulfric shook his head. He honestly didn't know what to do about the situation at the moment. In a way, it was brilliant. The fact that the Thalmor were behind the Battle-Borns, who supported the Empire, and had them kill the Stormcloak Rebellious Gray-Mane leader. It was like they where mocking him.

It didn't help that every city in Skyrim heard about the murder, and nearly plumeted into chaos over it. With news of the Dark Brotherhood coming back, everyone assumed it was the assassins. Ulfric knew better. With Vignar murdered and Battle-Borns fleeing...it just didn't sound like a Dark Brotherhood set up. Especially with Vignar being murdered right after Solitude's capture. Even if his soldiers, who also believed in the rumors, didn't. It was a problem. The Stormcloaks were getting distracted.

His thoughts were cut off quick when Mortan Stormblade burst through Ulfric's doors. He was frantic, gasping for breath.

"Talos, boy!" Galmar exclaimed, "What the hell happened?"

The younger of the three looked straight at Ulfric, and spoke quickly, loosing no time.

"There's something you need to know about Elisif."

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><p>The Stormcloaks let their guard down. That was the only way Elisif was able to escape. The guards were so wrapped up in the murder situation that they neglected checking on the former Jarl, and she caught word early of Vignar's death when two soldiers were talking about it in front of her door. The caretaker, also wrapped up in the murders, gave her food that night and forgot to lock her door. Elisif took advantage of this, sneaking out as soon as the halls were clear. She was able to sneak out and travel to the worker's corner, where if anyone saw here, no one would report it. She swiped some worker's raggedy clothing, and hid her face. After that, the not-so-bright guards were easy to walk past, and walking out of the palace undetected was a breeze.<p>

The hard part was convincing the stagecoach to travel that far to the south. With a couple of coins in her possession, Elisif was able to offer it to the Stagecoach driver. He was reluctant to take it when she told him she wanted to go south and past the border, especially when he realized later who she was.

"I'll get in bad trouble, milady," He informed her, "Maybe even branded a traitor. It's...not that I don't want to help you escape from those damned Stormcloaks...but if they find out..."

The ride certainly wouldn't be comfortable. Not with each rock hitting the wheel, making the carriage jump every couple of feet. Even the horse's clanking was enough to drive her mad. But Elisif was determined.

"I promise, sir. Once we reach Cyrodiil I'll make sure you're paid a good deal."

That was enough for the lone man to hear, and he let the subject go. He told her he's only doing it because he never thought the Solitude invasion was right. So, the two headed to the border.  
>The ride didn't last long. Elisif stared at the wilderness, which she hadn't seen for a long, long time. It was going to be a long and dull ride. She put a soft bag underneath her head for comfort against the bumpy carriage, and fell asleep.<p>

A while after she drifted off, the horse was forced to halt.

"Aye!" The stagecoach exclaimed. He peered in front of them. Two robed figures where standing in the middle of the road, clearly not moving. They faced his direction. In the stagecoach's line of work, you learn to not ask question. But this...

One of the figures spoke up loud. "Give us the girl."

The man's eyes widen at the order and looked back at the former Jarl, who was just waking up. When he looked back at the figures and saw them walking towards them, he started to panic.

"STOP!"

But the two were persistent and marched forward. One held their hand out, and without mercy, he cast a fire spell that made the stagecoach burst into flames. The frightened horse roared in pain and was ready to run, but the other figure held his hand out as well and cast a spell that drained the poor animal's life.

The two begun walking towards the stagecoach once more. One of them confirmed, "She is alive." Both were ready to change that.

Both stopped when they saw a familiar shadow in the distance. Passed the flames, a large figure stood. It walked hastily from the fire, holding the unconscious body of Elisif the Fair.

"It's him!" One of them yelled, and pulled out a dagger. "It's Ulfric!"

Ulfric Stormcloaks knelt down with Elisif cradled in his arms.

It wasn't hard finding the escaped former Jarl. Mortan had done his job well, and warned Ulfric of her escape before she had even gotten into the carriage. It took only a little bit to catch up with the stagecoach as they hid in the woods.

He gave the two figures a good cold stare, challenging them to come after him. Thinking they outnumbered him, both drew out their weapons, and began to sprint towards the King.

"FOR ULFRIC!"

A loud battle cry echoed from the forest, making the two halt completely in their tracks and search all around for the source. Before they could even do that, one of them was knocked away, his body split into two by the blade of Galmar Stone-Fist. The other jumped back and yelled in fear, only to instantly be pierced by a sharp blade from behind. He fell to his knees and died seconds later. Stormblade retrieved his sword from the body.

"Is she dead?" Galmar asked. Ulfric shook his head, laying her on the ground. She would be fine, until she woke up. Then she might very well be dead, he would make sure.

"Check the bodies."

Both Generals did what they were told, and looked at the bodies they killed.

"Elves," Mortan proclaimed, "Not just Elves. Thalmor."


	3. Seclusion

**THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED. The story is still the same, but the dialouge between Elisif and Ulfric have been heavily edited and I believe it's 10 times better. So if you've already read this chapter, I would very much appreciate you taking another look. Then, it would be completely AWESOME if you gave me your opinion on whether or not you like this one better. Croatin (my beta) and I worked really hard on this one!**

**Thanks! ~ Sky  
><strong>

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><p><em>Chapter 3: Seclusion<em>

The Thalmor Captain was distressed. All five of his fingernails repeatedly tapped against the wooden desk. His anxiety rose as thoughts raced through his head. Elisif's assassination attempt was a failure. Even worse than that was the outright fool he made of himself, and Elenwen loved to pester him about it every chance she got.

_This __is __not __a__ problem__...__This __is __not __a__ problem __at __all__..._ He kept saying to himself a million times in his head, but the shaking of his body and heavy breathing made it clear that he was lying to himself. He tried to convince himself that no one could pin the assassination attempt on the Thalmor, least of all Elrohir. The truth was the Thalmor were always the first people to pin it on.

The plan was simple. The Empire adored Elisif, and they had every reason to. Why shouldn't they? She was a strong, independent, young women who devastatingly lost her husband in front of her eyes that started the war and turned her beloved country around. The Empire was compelled to do anything for her and her late husband's loyalty. She was an icon, a symbol for what bravery meant.

If she had been murdered under the Stormcloak's care, think of outbreak that would cause!

The Empire would be distraught. It would fuel their hatred for the Stormcloaks even more, and they would ravage the country out of anger. At least, that's what Elrohir believed. Elenwen was not convinced of the scenario.

Framing the heartless Ulfric for murder wasn't so easy, he found out. Elenwen underestimated the Nord over the power he had politically and physically. When Elrohir did the same, he was the target of her ruthless banter and taunts.

How do you get to a girl who's watched like a hawk?

_I __wonder __if __the __Black __Sacrament __is __out __of __the __question__..._

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><p>Elisif's head was throbbing like a drum. The nurses took care of her burns and bruises from the fire to the best of their abilities, but she could still feel every popping nerve the flames touched on her body.<p>

She never seen the hooded figures, only waking up when she heard the stagecoach's shouting. Then the carriage had been attacked. Elisif had only found out what happened to her from the nurses when she woke the next morning. She had heard the hissing of the flames that burnt the carriage, and felt the hard rocky ground when she fell face down into it. She even felt the tight grip of Ulfric's warm arms around her body and saw his implacable face staring at her attackers. For the one moment she was able to stay awake, Elisif felt safe.

The nurse's tale seemed just as heroic as she thought it had been. They told her Ulfric saved her from the depths of the fire and two assassins, and if they hadn't confirmed it, Elisif would have thought it was just a dream.

"You just get some rest, milady," The head nurse suggested as she got Elisif's medicine ready to take. "You've had quite an adventure yesterday, and you're still not a hundred percent healthy."

Elisif shook her head and muttered, "I've had enough sleep as it is. I just want to get out of this room."

"You'll be going no where with those nasty burns, I'm afraid," The nurse informed her and handed her the medicine. She watched as Elisif downed it with water, who gave a distasteful look on her face. "You should feel lucky you made it out of that ordeal alive."

"Everyone keeps using that word, _lucky__."_

The nurse observed her in concern. She sat down by Elisif on her soft bed and held her hand tenderly.

"You don't feel lucky, milady? After the second chance you've been given?"

Elisif shifted her eyes to her caretaker's soft wrinkled hands and squeezed them gently. "What's so special about 'luck' if you're not happy?" She whispered.

Her nurse gave her a sympathetic look. The former Jarl was very young. She was young enough to disbelieve and reject changes in her life, and never accepting the way things are. She was stubborn, just like any other girl that was treated as a princess. The nurse could give no advice on the situation. She wanted to tell her '_just__ sit __back __a __while__, __enjoy __the __luxury __and __accept __that __you__'__re __alive__.' _The truth was, she had no idea what it was like to be in that situation.

Before the nurse could give any comfort, the door suddenly flew open, and there Ulfric Stormcloak stood. The nurse didn't have to ask any questions to know the stoic man was angry. She turned her head quickly to the maiden and gave her a another concerned glance, then got up to leave. She scurried quickly passed the larger man, giving him no greeting nor sign of acknowledgment.

The door closed, leaving just the two bitter opposites to glare at each other.

Ulfric didn't say a word. He started to pace around, inspecting her she shifted uncomfortably. The only noise in the room was was the thumping of his boots on the hardwood floor as he jaunted back and forth. He simply didn't know what to say. The Nord in him wanted to scream, to lash out and be done with her for good. Instead, he pacified his emotions inside as best he could. He could feel the heat in his face from his anger, and he was sure his face was blood red. His jaw was clenched tight to control himself from yelling across the room.

Elisif shifted uncomfortably in her bed, distracting herself by ruffling the comforter in her hands to avoid the angered glare of the Stormcloak King. She had heard of his wrath, and the treatment of those who angered him before. Elisif tried to show she wasn't fazed by him, but she was frightened inside.

Ulfric finally stopped pacing around, and instead headed for the nearby wooden seat that was by her bed. Elisif shifted in her bed even more in the opposite direction of where he sat, now uncomfortable on how close he was to her.

"Someone died tonight, Elisif," He started the conversation in a voice that he was clearly forced to control, "that man that you so foolishly endangered died last night. He had a family here...A child and a wife."

He studied Elisif as her face softened in regret. Her eyes shifted downwards, not daring to meet in him in eyes, and softly bit her bottom lip.

"I knew you were selfish, Elisif," he scoffed. "I knew you were self-centered...but to go this far-"

"What was I supposed to do?" Elisif snapped. "I had no idea that man was going to die! If you didn't lock me up here like an animal, none of this would have ever happened!"

Ulfric's face reddened, and she could see he was holding back his anger. He put his palms on the bed and leaned in much closer to her, disregarding her personal space.

"I'll make this clear," He said with a very low and unsteady voice, "That. Man. Died. And he died because of _You_! You alone are the reason he was there when he shouldn't have been. His blood is on _your _hands, and _yours_ alone. No one else."

"And what about you?" She quickly snapped back, challenging him, "What about the blood on _your_ hands from the soldiers you sent for your ridiculous cause?"

Ulfric instantly shot up from his seat and kicking it behind him. He was blinded with rage at her words, and he could no longer keep it contained.

"You _DARE_ bring them into this!" Ulfric roared so loud that Elisif jumped back in fright.

"The stains of their blood will _never_ wash from my hands!-" He stopped himself, not wanting to reveal his regrets.

Ulfric did feel guilty over his soldier's deaths. He felt the pain from each man, a pain she could _never_ imagine. He wept for them, knowing he was at fault as they died under his name and the name of the cause.

"But at least _they_ had a reason to die for!" Ulfric continued, " Their deaths where not in vain! That man died for no reason other than for you being a god DAMNED _FOOL_! He died for nothing!"

When his roars finally ceased, Elisif shook with fear and unable to stop. She was terrified of the man in front of her, and hadn't noticed that she had been crying during his rant. Shamefully, she wiped them away.

Ulfric sat and looked at her, still panting, realizing that her face was wet. He hadn't meant to go that far, just enough to get the point in.

Ulfric took another deep breath to calm himself down. Then, with a softer voice, he spoke again.

"He had a family, Elisif. Least you take pity on them."

With nothing more to say, Ulfric finally turned around. He left Elsif to her thoughts with no regrets over his outburst.

Elisif exhaled, relived he was finally gone. Her body shook with nerves, and her eyes were hot with tears. She had never been treated so unruly! Nor had she ever seen someone that enraged, scolding her in that roaring voice. Quietly, Elisif sneaked out of bed. She could hear Ulfric outside, ordering around one of his guards to keep a closer eye on her.

Gods, how she hated everything about that man. She _hated_ his proud stance. She _hated_ his assumption he was privileged to have anything he wanted. She _hated_t hat he was right. And she hated that he made her feel so guilty. Elisif _had_ forgotten about the man who died, and he did die because of her. Had she really become this selfish?

Elisif wiped her eyes from the tears and shook her head frantically. Elisif the Fair hated Ulfric Stormcloak.

* * *

><p>The Blue Palace was never as peaceful as it had been before the Stormcloak invasion. People were constantly harassed by the new soldiers and others were always on the edge. Children, however, never seemed phased about what was going on. The ran around the whole castle playing their games while they felt safe because their father was Balgruuf the Greater. Nothing could harm them while under his wing, they thought.<p>

Balgruuf was happy they thought that, at least. The only thing he ever cared about was his many children's happiness. When the Stormcloak's invaded Whiterun, the children asked innocently why they had to move away. He knew Elisif, the inexperienced, oblivious but kind Jarl, would shelter them from any harassment the Gray-Mane's would cause to them. He was in her debt.

He should have hated Ulfric and his petty rebellion. He had every right right to. But Balgruuf was wise in every sense of the word, and by nature was never a vengeful person. That's why he stayed out of the war. When the Stormcloaks raided Solitude, Balgruuf was ready to pack up with his children and leave, just to stay out of trouble. The only thing that made him stay was word that Elisif was taken prisoner. He wanted to go, but after everything she had done for him, he stayed in respect of her. Something just made him feel awful for considering leaving her to that bigot, Ulfric.

Then, Vignar, who had taken Balgruuf's rightful place as Jarl, was murdered. This surprised everyone, Balgruuf most of all. He knew his former home was shaken at the tragedy. More importantly, the Whiterun throne was empty, leaving the people-his people-to fend for themselves. No one in the world had the position and experience to fill that seat. It mad him wonder what action Ulfric would take to fix this. He knew he was going to get a visit from him very soon.

Balgruuf was sitting at the long-table for a snack as he enjoyed watching his children play happily. As Balgruuf bit into his apple, he could see a tall broad frame of Ulfric in the corner of his eye, just as he predicted he would.

Ulfric walked towards the table, noting how Balgruuf chose not to acknowledge or look at him as he sat down. Instead, he continued with his snack. Ulfric sighed. They were certainly not on good terms, and this conversation who surely not be as easy as he would hope.

Balgruuf put his apple core down, still chewing on the remnants. "After a week and a half of being here, you finally decided to visit."

Ulfric gave a faint chuckle. "I try what I can do with the little time I have, now a days."

"Then I could just imagine what you would want from an old man such as me."

Ulfric was surprised to find his nerves shaking. He valued his pride more than anything, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. Asking this of Balgruuf after taking his crown away would have him scrutinized. Still, there was no one else with the civil war, the Thalmor, and the Dragons, who would be willing to step up.

"You are not as angry as I thought you would be," Ulfric noted out loud.

Balgruuf took a sip of mead and gulped it down. "You never knew me well, boy. I care little for your bickering and war. I only have time for people and their welfare."

"And you think I don't?"

"Not as much as you like to credit yourself, anyway. If you did, I would have sided you a long time ago."

"I didn't come here for an lecture on my leadership, Balgruuf," Ulfric shot back, "I...I came here for a favor."

"As expected...," The other man grumbled. "I wont criticize you any longer, then. I'll listen."

Ulfric sighed. "I need you to take back your place as Jarl of Whiterun."

Balgruuf scoffed. Even when he knew the question was coming, he still felt disgusted over Ulfric. Still, Balgruuf knew if Ulfric was to come to him, he had to agree. He studied the Stormcloak leader, knowing that he had sensitivity in his eyes. Whether he was asking Balgruuf for the people of Whiterun or simply to keep his Jagged Crown, he didn't know. It didn't matter, anyway.

"I'll accept only for my people. I have little choice in the matter."

Ulfric got up instantly. "You have my gratitude, Balgruuf."

"I have nothing from you but a bunch of dead soldiers, boy," The older man retorted. "But, if I take this, there is one matter I wish for you to think upon."

"I could imagine," Ulfric uttered.

"I worry for Elisif."

Ulfric eyed Balgruuf, almost questioningly. "She's in good hands, you know that."

"Not so much her sanity," Balgruuf shot back. "It doesn't matter how tight you lock the key. She'll always try to run from you if you treat her like this."

"I don't know-"

"You do," Balgruuf stood up facing Ulfric. His voice lowered and spoke to him softly. "I know you care for her. For some...strange reason you're compelled to keep her close. But she's young, Ulfric. Far too young to be kept in a cage."

Ulfric shook his head and turned around to leave. He now remembered why he dreaded speaking to the old man so much, loathing how he loved to give advice on what he knew nothing about.

"You're wrong," he called out behind him. "I don't care. Nothing 'compels' me to keep her. I only attend for her safety because I must. For Torygg's sake."

Balgruuf grumbled. Ulfric sounded like he was picking excuses from hat. "What about her welfare?"

Ulfric stopped. In a low tone, he replied, "Her welfare is none of my concern."

And with that, Ulfric was gone.


	4. Plan

_I want to give a HUGE thanks to my Betas Lyonene and Croatin, who both have AMAZING stories that are so awesome, you probably already have them in your favorites. But if you don't, go check them out! _

_If you read chapter 3, Croatin and I completely re-wrote the dialogue between Ulfric and Elisif, and I would ask that you read it because we worked hard on it and I think it sounds 10 times better than before. I would totally apreciate any reviews and critiques for it!_

_Someone asked if the main quest is still around and if Alduin is still alive. The answer is yes he is._

_I hope everyone had a great holiday!_

**Edit: I re-uploaded because I added another part to the end, so if you haven't read it, go check it out! I wanted to move the story on next chapter so I went ahead and got this out of the way.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 4: Plan<span>**

Ulfric Stormcloak stood at his desk, glaring hard at the man in front of him. The man did not belong here. He was a part of the Penitus Oculatus, a special guard for the Emperor himself. Ulfric disliked this surprise requested meeting from the Imperial.

"The Emperor is ready to depart this country very soon," The officer informed Ulfric, "In light of your...victory, he feels it is appropriate to leave."

Ulfric rudely chose to avoid the man's gaze, instead keeping his eyes set on his map. "Not soon enough can his filth depart my people's land."

The officer glared at him. "I still represent the Emperor, mind you! I was simply tasked with informing you."

"Liar." Ulfric said.

"I beg your pardon?"

Ulfric's head rose at last to meet the officer's eyes. He stared at the officer challengingly. "I said 'liar'. You would not come here just for a petty message. Spit it out."

The Penitus Oculatus officer clenched his jaw. He knew Ulfric was never an easy man to converse with. "We wish to bargain for Elisif the Fair." He could hear the cynical laugh of the leader in front of him.

"Bargain? What for?"

"Elisif is apart of the Empire, Ulfric. She swore an oath even after Torygg's..." He stopped to caution himself, knowing whom he was speaking to. He lowered his voice and finished. "...Demise. We believe- no, we _know_-that she has no wish to be here."

"I don't know what you are proving by coming here and making a bold demand. She belongs to no one-"

"And she doesn't belong to you, Ulfric!" the man cut in, but quickly adjusted his tone. "If the Thalmor are truly after her, then with us she'll be safer."

"_Safer__?" _Ulfric scoffed. "Safe where, Imperial? In your _White__-__Gold_ tower? You think you're more successful in defending that tower than before?"

The officer stood silent, annoyed at Ulfric's caustic words. He took a deep breath to give them both time to cool down.

"I understand your frustration, I really do. What happened to you during the war was...awful. Terrible. Words cannot describe how the other's and I felt when you were taken. But think of Elisif, Ulfric. She's just a _child_. Think about the agony they would put her through if they were to take her."

Ulfric said nothing, but the officer could tell from the anguish in his expression that he was thinking about the situation and what to do. For a moment, Ulfric stared at the ground.

Should he let the girl go? Back to her precious Empire? Surely it's what she wanted. And when Ulfric told Balgruuf that he didn't care about her, he was sure that he meant it. Maybe letting her go would rid him of the nuisance.

Then he thought about the Elves. They would do anything to get their claws on her, just to prove a point. Just like they did to him. Ulfric's thoughts were taken back to time of the war.

During those days, Ulfric was younger and much more foolish. Like an Unblooded Stormcloak, Ulfric was rash in situations, charging into battles with no strategy. He never thought of the consequences.

Then the Thalmor abducted him.

He couldn't remember how he was captured. All his thoughts around the time were hazed together. Ulfric had always wanted to keep the terrorizing memories fresh to fuel his anger and remind him why he fought. But his subconscious mind repressed them deep.

He knows, however, that the Thalmor captured him, interrogated him. He tried with all his might to resist, to keep everything in his mind and reveal nothing. Then he broke. He told them everything they wanted to know. Within days, the White-Gold tower was taken by the Elves.

After all the humiliation, torture, and shame, Ulfric wanted to die. He wanted the Thalmor to strike him down. But the Thalmor wouldn't even give him that. They did the worse thing they could. They let him go.

No.

The Empire turned its back on him. As much as his hatred grew for Elisif on a daily basis, Ulfric wouldn't let the Empire do to her as it had him.

"Leave this place, Imperial," Ulfric ordered in a low hoarse tone. "Leave. You'll get nothing from me this day."

The officer sighed in defeat. For a moment, he stood there, hoping Ulfric would change his mind. After waiting in silence, the officer cleared his throat, and left the room without a goodbye.

* * *

><p>Elisif wasn't able to get any rest. The nurses told her countless time to sleep, but she was far too restless and excited. Outside of her window, she could see a large ship from afar docked at Solitude's harbor. She recognized the type of ship and its flag immediately. It was an Empire ship. They had come for her.<p>

She expected to leave as soon as she saw the ship, but it instead sat there for many hours. No doubt the Imperials were negotiating for her, knowing how stubborn Ulfric was. Elisif could even hear people outside her door pass by and use words like 'Empire' and 'Imperial officer', so she knew she wasn't wrong. However, nurses still checked on her and chefs still catered to her without a mention of the Empire agent being there.

Then, she saw the ship part ways from the harbor, and her heart sank. Elisif wanted to cry. Hadn't they come for her? Of course not, why would they? Elisif would be stuck in that room for the rest of her life.

The next day, Elisif was being escorted back to her room after her nightly bath. Without a word, her guard handed her extra clothes. When she grabbed them, she felt a folded piece of paper beneath them. When about to question the guard, he put his finger to his lips and shushed her. Elisif immediately went to her room and her guard stood outside the door as normal.

Inside her room, she quickly ran to her bed, sat down, and unfolded the note.

_E__._

_Loredas __night __we __go __home__. __We__ await __your __reply__._

A short, nearly cryptic and unsigned note was all Elisif needed for her heart to race. Loredas was the next night. She got up and walked to her desk where a parchment of paper and an inkwell laid. She thought for a moment what to write without revealing too much. If the Stormcloaks got their hands on her note, then she needed to have written a carefully as possible so they had little to accuse anyone with. Elisif sighed, and started to dictate her scribe. Just a single word, and a small letter.

_Yes__._

_E__._

It was short, but they would understand. She got the message, she was ready, and they would take care of the rest. Elisif folded the note neatly and walked to the door. She knelt down, and silently tapped the door just once, then waited for the Imperial spy to signal back.

_Knock__, __knock__._

With the confirmation Elisif hastily slid the note through the bottom of the door and felt the pressure of it being pulled from her.

Elisif got up, feeling the excitement throughout her body. She sat on her bed and smiled, her heart thumping fast. She was finally going home.

* * *

><p>Except, the letter never made it out of the Imperial spy's hands. By the time he made it into the woods after he was relieved of his guard duty, the spy was halted by two hooded figures. He demanded for them to reveal themselves, and that's exactly what they did. It was an Altmer and a Bosmer, who called themselves Thalmor, and they both had been searching for him. Before the spy could say or do anything at all, the Bosmer proved far more quick than him and the elf sealed the Imperial's mouth with his hand. He then drained the life out of his body. Within seconds, the spy was dead.<p>

The Bosmer carefully placed the body on the ground, and searched thoroughly through the satchel. Inside, he found two notes, and handed them to the Altmer to read while he continued to scavenge the man's body. The Altmer read the first short note.

"What's it say?" The Wood elf asked while still searching.

"It says, _"__Yes__"_, he replied, and the Bosmer looked up, "And it appears to be signed by the girl."

"You're sure?"

The Altmer sighed and nodded. Then he remembered the second note, and quickly unfolded it as well.

"Ah!" He exclaimed, "This one contains much more valuable information..." he read it thoroughly, then explained it out loud. "I believe it's directions, to where, I do not know."

"Should we go there?" The Bosmer got up and glanced at the note.

The Altmer nodded. "Yes, I think we should. If I'm right about this, I believe it's where the Empire is taking her."

The Thalmor agents knew Ulfric was keeping Elisif from the Empire. For what reason, they didn't know. Perhaps he didn't want to give the Thalmor the glory of capturing her.

"Then what do we do now?" The Bosmer asked, looking at the dead body. "I don't think _he__'__ll_ be escorting anyone like this."

The Altmer laughed at this shorter acquaintance. "You should know me better than that, my brother. Him being dead won't stop him from doing his job."

* * *

><p>Ulfric sat at his desk as usual, thinking of his plans. To his surprise, with Galmar talking and boasting in the background, Ulfric couldn't seem to focus at all. He had the image of Elisif the Fair taking over his busy mind, and every thought of war made him go back her. The woman, who believed she had the rights to the Jagged Crown with little to no effort, was everything he hated. She was weak, foolish, and deserved no such rewards. Still, as much as he tried to list all the reasons to hate her, he could never truly feel genuine hatred for her. Ulfric would be a lair if he said he liked her as a person, for she was selfish to no end, and the incident with the stagecoach just proved it. But he'd also be a liar if he said he didn't steal a glance of her every now and then whenever he could. Little things about Elisif made her stand out to him. She was young and naive, even spoiled. But she was defiant. Though she caused nothing but problems for Ulfric, he secretly admired her determination and the will to fight. In that sense, she was just like him.<p>

Elisif was beautiful, and no one could deny that, even if her surly attitude sometimes overshadowed it. She had pale Nordic skin, long blond hair, and a small frame that made him often wonder what other racial blood she possessed in her. Even many of the Stormcloak soldiers, who once vowed to have her head on their stakes, would gossip about her physical looks amongst themselves. Yes, Ulfric was well aware of her beauty, but if anyone was to ask him about it, Ulfric would have to brand himself a lair and deny it all.

Ulfric's thoughts and with Galmar's senseless talk were soon interrupted when a Stormcloak Spy quickly rushed in.

"My King!" he quickly bowed his head, "I have troubling news."

Ulfric turned his full attention to the boy, his eyes pressed on him hard. "Speak."

"Elisif the Fair was taken by and Imperial Spy about a quarter of an hour ago."

Ulfric could hear Galmar grunt beside him, for they both expected her to do something foolish again.

"No surprises," Galmar simply put, "Just let her be, Ulfric. She's no use to us unless we want something to look at. She was distracting the men, anyway."

"If only I wouldn't feel her blood on my hands if the Thalmor were to catch her. Otherwise, I would."

The spy respectfully waited for his king to stop speaking before finishing his report.

"It's more urgent than that, I'm afraid." Both Ulfric's and Galmar's eyes looked back at the well-mannered boy, who spoke rapidly. "One of the Stormcloaks that guarded her door was the Imperial Spy, and he escorted her to a disguised ship. We apprehended him after he took her there," The boy stopped for a moment to clear his dry throat. "However, something very bizarre occurred…he…well…"

"Spit it out boy, we don't got all day!" Galmar ordered. The boy jumped back from the sudden outburst, then searched for his words.

"The spy…died. When we confronted him, he-I don't know, he passed out on the spot! We felt for a pulse, but he was freezing like he had been dead for a good amount of time."

When the boy stopped telling his story, Ulfric and Galmar stared hard at each other, both wondering the same thing. How could that be possible?

"Necromancy."

Everyone turned their heads to the door to see a woman in mage's clothes crossing her arms. It was Solitude's Court Wizard, Sybile Stentor, with her usual cold face and mean attitude.

"And who in Talo's name are _you?_" Galmar spoke up. The Wizard rolled her eyes.

"You don't pay very well attention, barbarian," she insulted, "and neither do your men. I've been in this castle since the takeover, hiding in the shadows. It's a…specialty of mine. But what's important is my Lady Elisif." She turned her head to Ulfric, more serious. "It was a Necromancy spell that was cast on the… _poor_ spy's body. Why whom, I'm sure you know."

Ulfric found the woman's gaze unsettling. He tore from it to turn to the Spy.

"How long till the ship departs?"

"W-we have time," the boy nervously replied, "The ship couldn't be properly docked, as its hidden, so maybe an hour or so."

Ulfric sighed. "I was hoping you'd tell me not long. The Thalmor will have as much time as us, maybe more." He turned to Galmar. "Tell Mortan he's in charge of Solitude for now." He then looked at the wizard. "And keep a good eye on her."

The woman gave Galmar a snotty grin as she stepped to the side for Ulfric to leave.

* * *

><p><em>Next chapter, the actual action begins, with both Elisif and Ulfric, and the Thalmor.<em>


	5. Waters

_**Thanks for the reviews, guys! And thanks to my awesome betas!** _

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 5: Waters<em>

Elisif could feel the butterflies forming in her stomach as she paced in her cabin. The worse part of any trip was waiting for the damned ship to depart.

_Cyrodiil_, she mused, _so __long __since __I__'__ve __set __foot __there__._

She hardly remembered her mother's home country, and only been a couple of times when she was a small girl. Her mother would take her to Cyrodiil during Imperial holidays for family events. Any excuse her mother could make to her proud Nordic father to visit, she made. At leas t, that was before her mother passed on.

Elisif shook her head. She needed to put aside the sad thoughts. This was a time for joy! No longer would she deal with the shame of living in the tainted Blue Palace, where her home had become a slaughterhouse for Tullius and other innocent lives. No longer would she

be a prisoner of _Ulfric __Stormcloak_!

Of course, there were moments as she walked to the hidden ship where she felt slight guilt over leaving him. Yes, she was no one's prisoner and had every right to leave but at the same time, Ulfric _did_ save her, and that she'd always remember. Yet, there was too much doubt in Elisif to believe that he saved her out of the kindness in his heart. She knew Ulfric was a political man, and political men hated to loose. It seemed more plausible that Ulfric saved her so he didn't feel like the Thalmor won if they killed her while she was under his protection.

Ulfric was her enemy. He has been her enemy since the day he walked into Solitude and shouted Torygg to death. Though her marriage to Torygg was more of a formality that was never truly based on love, Elisif cared for him deeply. He had been a kind, gentle man who wanted nothing more than peace between Skyrim and the rest of the world. Elisif liked to think that eventually, yes, she would have fallen in love with Torygg.

_But__ that __would __never __happen__ now__…_

_So__ much __for __a __joyous __event__,_ she sighed. Elisif's depressing thoughts on her deceased loved ones were taking over her mind. She tried anything to keep her mind off of them.

Her thoughts were cut short for a knock suddenly came at her door. Elisif would've usually called for whoever it was to come right in, polite as she was. However, she was suspicious lately, and she had every right to be. Elisif quietly got up from her bed, and tiptoed to her door. The space between the door and the wall was small, but large enough for Elisif to peek through. To her relief, she saw an Imperial Captain, and sighed.

"Please hold!" Elisif unlocked the door and greeted the kind man as she stood aside to let him enter. He smiled and took of his hat, then bowed his head in a regal manner.

"Milady," he greeted back, "I trust everything is pleasant so far?"

Elisif gave him a kind smile in return. "Very, though I wonder how pleasant it will be once we sail," she joked, "I never had a strong stomach for travel, I'm afraid."

"Well, we'll be sure to bring up a remedy should that happen. We'll take care of anything you need. In the meantime, we'll be ready to sail in a half hour." The man bowed his head once more then put his hat back on.

Elisif smiled as she watched him walk away, but then realized she meant to ask him another question. "Oh! One more thing, if you don't mind?"

The captain stopped to listen.

"I understand we share this ship with the Emperor?"

"Oh, not this ship, I'm afraid," he grinned, "He is on another ship, though I'm sure his ship sailed a while ago."

Elisif smiled and let him go. She was secretly glad she didn't share the same ship as the Emperor, looking as pale and frail as ever. Her terrible looks, though understandable, would embarrass her. With a deep sigh, Elisif locked the door back up.

* * *

><p>"There's the ship."<p>

The Stormcloak spy pointed to the average sized ship, which stood out against the lonely waters and quiet forest. Ulfric and the boy hid behind a foundation of rocks from afar, careful to conceal themselves well. Galmar insisted he go as well, but Ulfric quickly denied him, knowing Stone-Fist would charge in and obliterate every Imperial and blow the damn ship without thinking about Elisif. Besides that, he trusted in himself enough to do this alone. He didn't want to waste anymore lives for her sake.

"I'll take care of this," Ulfric told the boy.

The spy nodded and scurried off, leaving his king to tread quietly in the dark. If anyone had seen him, he was sure that the image of a large Nord sneaking like a thief was a silly one. It was like a bear trying to stay hidden. But Ulfric had many years of experience in the art of guerrilla warfare.

Ulfric crept as slow as he could, making sure no Imperial could see him as he took steps into the freezing water. He walked careful so any ripples in the water he made could barely be heard or heard. When he got deep enough to swim, Ulfric submerged himself in the water, just enough for his nose to be exposed to air.

At last, he got to the ship. With his rough hand, he felt the sides of it for a door, and hoped that he wouldn't have to dive to the bottom of the ship to get to it. When his hand brushed against the uneven ridges, he sighed in relief when he realized it was the trap door. Ulfric put his ear to it, and when he didn't hear anything inside, he opened it and lifted himself up to get in.

Once inside, Ulfric could hear footsteps coming nearer towards the storage room, tapping against the wooden floor. Ulfric scanned around. It was a small enough room for him to ambush someone, so he quietly took his sword out and stood by the door, then listened carefully. It was just one person, he concluded, and he was getting very close.

Ulfric timed the tapping of the boot steps, and let the man walk in. As soon as he did, Ulfric was quick to grab him with his strong left arm, using it to hold the Imperial's mouth quiet and rested his blade on the Imperial's neck with his right.

"Stay quiet," Ulfric grunted against the man's violent struggles, "I look for Elisif the Fair."

The man he caught was clearly not a fighter, maybe barely even a soldier, though he still donned Imperial armor. The soldier squealed underneath Ulfric's hand like a young cub, shaking in fear. Ulfric let his hand off the Imperial's mouth so he could speak.

"Y-you're Ulfric Stormcloak!"

"I _said_," Ulfric put pressure on the sword to his neck, "_I__look__for__Elisif__the__Fair__."_

"I-I don't know anything!"

"Don't lie to me boy! Your life is in my hands and I've killed much worse than you!"

"Alright!" he yelled, but quickly quieted himself, "alright, I'll t-talk! She's a floor above; it's the door on the right! Just _please__, _let me go!"

Ulfric sat there for a moment, giving a silent prayer for what he was about to do. There was just no way he could let the Imperial walk out and warn anyone. The risk was just too high. Then, he whispered, "May Talos be with you," to the Imperial. Before he had time to panic, Ulfric's blade sliced his neck, and his hand squeezed the boy's mouth to silence him as he eventually died seconds later.

Yes, Ulfric Stormcloak was disgusted with himself at that moment. But he did what he had to to survive. At least, that's what he kept telling himself. Ulfric bid the boy farewell on his journey to Sovngarde, and used a nearby cloth to wipe his sword clean before sheathing it.

Ulfric quietly treaded upstairs and hid himself to scour the floor. There weren't many soldiers, and the Imperials that were there seemed young and inexperienced. He wondered why there weren't any true guards on the ship. Ulfric kept close to the wall, seeing the rightmost door nearby. When no one was around, Ulfric quickly headed to the door and opened it before anyone could see.

At last, he made it inside, silently shutting the door closed. No one was inside, but the furnished style affirmed it was Elisif's quarters. For a second, he pondered what to do, knowing well she would alert the guards. He made haste to the nearby closet, keeping it slightly open just enough for him to jump out when he needed to.

After only a couple of minutes waiting, he could finally hear people coming closer. The door to her room opened.

"If you don't mind-," it was Elisif's voice, "I would like to remain in my quarters. I don't mean to sound rude, but given the circumstances as of late, I've become quite...well…" she thought of the right words so she didn't seem crude, "…I mean…I have faith in you to take care of me…"

"Say no more, milady," the man told her, but seemed rather agitated," If the captain needs you again, I'll be sure he sends a note instead."

Elisif sensed the man's distain but gave a weak smile anyway and excused him. Ulfric watched from her closet as Elisif securely lock her doors.

In Ulfric's head, he planned to jump out and silence her before she had time to scream for the Imperials. The damned fool still didn't realize the danger she was in, even if she seemed suspecting of it. Before he could do anything, however, the floor beneath his boots began to rumble and the clothes around him lightly caressed his face. The ship was taking off at last... he didn't have much time left. Ulfric needed to get her.

However, Ulfric was caught off guard when he turned his head to face Elisif. His jaw nearly hit the floor. No longer was she wearing her blouse, instead she stood there, bare, and Ulfric couldn't tear his eyes from her soft back. Elisif the Fair was shirtless right in front of him, and although she clutched herself to defend from the cold so he could see no more than her naked spine, it was enough for him to be left with little breath in him.

Elisif turned to grab her shirt and he was quick to turn away. It teased him. Of course, Ulfric never felt ashamed about looking at any woman's body before, but it was the wrong place, and wrong woman. He didn't have the right to want Elisif the Fair, and of all the dames in Skyrim, he didn't want to be caught staring at _this__ one__._

_Talos __save __me__…_

When the boat rolled more, Ulfric turned back to look at the now clothed Elisif, who was sitting in her bed. She had her back turned to him, and so he decided that if there was any right time to grab her, now was it. Ulfric pushed the door open silently, and crept towards her. His lack of true stealth proved itself as the sound of his boots hitting the floor caught Elisif's ears. Before she had time to look back, Ulfric had already lunged forward and shut her mouth with his hand.

Elisif screamed through the rough hands that held her small mouth.

"Quiet," he ordered, "or more Imperial lives will be slaughtered."

Elisif whimpered helplessly, but nodded her head. He was slow to lift his hand off her mouth, hoping she wouldn't be foolish enough to scream and run, but let her mouth go.

"Thalmor are near," He told her quickly, not wanting her to call the guards before he explained his case on why he was there. "Surely you're not a fool to notice the spy who brought you here was dead."

"What are you talking about?" She choked up, "He _walked_me here-"

"And when my men confronted him, he fell over dead," Ulfric snapped back, scanning outside the window, "He had been dead for hours. Necromancers spell of some sort."

Elisif thought back on the spy. Yes, the Imperial spy had acted strange, she noted, more strange than when she first met him. As they walked to the hidden ship, he was far too quiet, and never looked around to scan the perimeters. He simply walked forward, eyes straight forward, as if he had one purpose and one purpose only. Elisif doubted that he even blinked once. Still, she stayed silent, watching Ulfric scan around the room.

"Have you dare become so barbaric that you watch me as I dress?" Elisif suddenly challenged.

Ulfric looked up and raised an eyebrow. "This isn't the time. And for the record, no, I didn't see anything, nor did I wish to. Don't flatter yourself."

Elisif rolled her eyes and let him scout around.

Suddenly, the ship rolled violently and both could hear screaming across the hall. They whipped their heads towards the door. Soldier's boots one after another trampled across the floors, they yelled frantic before each one fell silent. Ulfric and Elisif listened, hearing nothing but silence after only a few moments. When only boot steps could be heard on the floor followed by the sound of elves laughing, Ulfric grabbed Elisif's waist and pushed them both in the same closet Ulfric had been hiding in.

With both cramped inside, Ulfric kept one arm around still around her waist, and the other holding her mouth shut as she was forced to lay on his lap. He whispered for her to "shush", and she was too scared not to listen to him. After a few moments, Elisif's cabin door creaked open, heavy boots making their way inside while the accent of the Thalmor still talked of the Imperial's demise. Elisif tried her best to keep her tears in.

It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in. Elisif would've protested being in the lap of Ulfric Stormcloak had the Thalmor not been in her room for what seemed like a lifetime. It was good the closet was dark so he couldn't see her cheeks flush, but she wondered if he could feel the heat from her as he held her mouth.

_This__really__isn__'__t__the__time__…_ Elisif scolded herself.

That's when one of the Thalmor finally left, and Ulfric took his hand off her mouth. Without realizing what he was doing, she nearly yelped when he squeezed her body tight with his right hand.

"Shhh," he quieted her. Ulfric silently took out his sword from its scabbard on his left, and when Elisif saw it, she closed her eyes tight. How many Imperial lives had been claimed by that thing?

"Climb over me," he ordered her in a whisper. Elisif nodded, lifting herself from his lap to the other side. It allowed him enough room to get up and open the closet door.

Elisif wasn't sure how Ulfric killed the Thalmor agent, but she knew he killed him without much trouble. She heard a struggle outside, and prayed to Talos it was the Thalmor who was making those terrible gurgling sounds. When it was over, Elisif pushed the door open.

The scene in her room was terrible. Ulfric stood tall and victorious over a pool of blood, a golden-armored body lying by his feet. Ulfric wiped his blade with Elisif's comforter.

Ulfric noted her discomfort as he watched her creep up from the closet like a scared mouse.

The scene wasn't pleasant, he was sure, but it was time they got out of there.

"Let us leave," he turned his head to the door, peaking out. No one was around, but he was sure there were a number of them. Without looking back, Ulfric put his red-stained hand out to Elisif. "Take my hand."

Elisif was relunctant to touch the dirty hand that just ended a life, but wasn't in a position to protest. Ulfric was the only one who could save her at this point. She clutched his hand tight, and he began to pull her to the door.

"_Laas__ Yah__ Nir_."

Elisif wasn't sure what he just whispered, but whatever it was, he gazed across the ship for a good moment.

"What did you do?" She murmured.

Ulfric chose not to answer, instead watching his vision blur to where he saw many red silhouettes across the ship. The Thalmor didn't bring as many mer as he thought they would, though there were still a good number of them. Maybe it was luck. On the floor they were on, five occupied it, and even dragging Elisif he would still be able to dodge them. On deck would be a little trickier, as about nine patrolled outside. Ulfric guessed there would be a good fight against them, but maybe he could get by the water and jump off. Either way, he needed to act soon.

"Keep close."

Elisif nodded, clutching his hand tight, trusting him with her life. Both stayed low as they crept quickly to the ladder that led to a latch above. After spending years sneaking on Imperial boats, Ulfric knew to take it before he'd ever climb the stairs. It was hidden, and it would give them enough time to sneak to the railing.

Ulfric kept a tight grip on his sword and made sure Elisif was close behind him. She gently touched his back with her small hand, and though for her it was for comfort, Ulfric was glad she did it as a sign to know she was still there. There would be a fight before escaping, he was sure of it. Though the red silhouettes of the Thalmor since faded away, he kept the numbers in his head, hoping they still patrolled their spots.

The ladder and latch lead to the deck, just as he thought, and luck was on their side for barrels and boxes covered them. No one would knew they were there. The railing wasn't too far away, and he knew that a good sneak across could get them there before they jumped off.

At last, Ulfric took a deep breath, and slowly snuck across, keeping very low to the ground. He was constantly checking on the woman near him and she followed his exact movements as best she could. Deep inside, Ulfric was proud of her for keeping so composed.

As they shrouded themselves in the darkness, they finally got to the railing.

"Get ready to jump," Ulfric told her in such a soft whisper, he nearly mouthed it. She nodded. Before either had a chance, however, a tiny elf-like laugh crackled like a clown behind them.

Ulfric whipped his head around instantly, holding his blade out. Standing behind him were two robed Thalmor. One was a small Bosmer that did the horrible mocking chuckle. The other was an Altmer, who unlike his companion, stood tall and proud, not cracking a single smile. His stern frown made Elisif shudder.

"Ulfric Stormcloak," The Altmer greeted, then turned his head to Elisif, "Lady Elisif-"

"Let's spare them the formalities," the Bosmer snarled, "They deserve none, anyhow."

The Altmer didn't seem mad at the interruption, but instead nodded in agreement with the other. He smirked, turning his head to Ulfric, and let the words fall from his lips.

"Then let us get on with business, shall we? I'll admit, Stormcloak. You got farther than I would have imagined. I thought those lousy Imperial's would have done a better job than let someone such as yourself prance around on board."

The Bosmer grunted. "Shows you what they're good for. I went to _her_ room myself, only to find our fellow mer dead. I was sure we'd get to her first, you sneaky bastard."

"Language, friend," The Altmer warned, but didn't seem to actually care. "You'll have to forgive him. He doesn't like when people get to his prey before he does. I commend you, Ulfric Stormcloak. You almost spoiled our plans, and with you being here, it's going to be a little tricky framing you when she's dead." He watched as Elisif's eye's turned more terrified than before, scouting the rest of the Thalmor on the deck that was surrounding them all.

"But that's fine. With the Emperor deceased, it won't be too difficult…"

Ulfric's eye shot up. "What are you playing at, elf?"

"Well didn't you hear the news?" The Bosmer chuckled, "He's dead. Sliced throat."

Elisif could feel her heart tearing inside her. The Emperor? Dead? How could that be? She turned her head to the Altmer and accused him loudly.

"You killed him?"

"Oh, no child. We do not get the honor of claiming that victory. It was a….mysterious assassination. Most blame the Dark Brotherhood."

Ulfric mused the thought. Yes, he heard about the Dark Brotherhood and their work lately. It was partly the reason he kept Elisif so locked up and constantly checked on. After the murder of Vicci, he wasn't sure who the next target was.

"You see," The Altmer went on, "A certain Penitus Oculatus officer was found dead not too long ago. He held a letter to the Stormcloaks stating he was willing to work with them and kill the Emperor."

Elisif's eyes instantly shot up to face Ulfric in both confusion and anger. He didn't look back, instead glaring at the mer.

"Whatever the case may be, it would be easier than ever to blame you for Elisif's death, now."

The Altmer took a step forward, but Ulfric was taking no chances. He gripped Elisif's waist, ready to jump, and took a deep breath.

The Altmer knew very well what Ulfric was about to do. "Your cheap shouts won't work on us! We're cloaked to the fullest!"

Ulfric's head turned to barrels, and his eye caught the shimmering light of the oil puddled on the deck.

_Talos__must__be__watching__…_

"_YOL__!_"

Hot flames sprouted from Ulfric's mouth, heading toward the oil. As it touched the liquid, the barrels around shot up instantly shot up in flames, even catching a few elves on fire and burned their skin. Ulfric quickly grabbed Elisif and pushed her out of the way before a Thalmor could cut her, his sword clashing against the elf's. The Thalmor soldier's sword swung against

Ulfric's arm, splitting his skin open.

Ulfric bellowed loud at the pain and trying to ignore the blood as it began to spurt out.

"_FUS __RO __DAH__!"_

The Thalmor flew back and knocked a few others on the ship's ground.

"JUMP!"

Elisif flung herself over the railing. She was scared to do so, but more frightened of the battle. As Elisif's body hit the water, she only hoped Ulfric's would soon follow.

The Freezing waters surrounded her face and body, and she flailed helplessly to the top. It was her hand that first got to the surface, and then her face hit the cold air.

Elisif was frightened and flailed her arms in the water, so frightened for no matter which way she turned, Elisif could not find Ulfric in the water with her.

"ULFRIC!" she shouted. No one shouted in return, just the yells in terror above from the dying elves.

_Please __let __him __live__…_ She begged, _Just__ this __once__, __let __him__ live__!_

Elisif struggled to keep herself above the water, then shouted again.

"ULFRIC!"


End file.
